AFTER ALL ROSSELLA did on Monday night for the dinner party, Beulah wanted to do something kind in return. It seemed that some of the tension had gone out of the house once Rossella had proved her skill in the kitchen to Beulah’s friends and neighbors. Despite the stolen chicken, she felt it was her duty as a hostess to offer Rossella a day of sightseeing. She would just as soon have stayed home, but Rossella should see more of Kentucky than the farms on May Hollow Road.
While she was happy to drive around Somerville and even Rutherford, she was no longer comfortable driving up to Lexington with all the traffic. Beulah asked Joe and Betty if they would drive her car and off they all went early Tuesday morning.
Rossella’s eyes nearly bugged out at all the manicured horse farms with the dry-laid stone fences, grand entrances, and the thoroughbred barns nice as human homes.
“I know the fella who runs this one,” Joe said, turning into one of the driveways that led back to the farm office.
They waited in the car while Joe went in to see his friend. Betty craned her neck from the front seat.
“Land sakes, this is fun! I sure wish Evelyn could have come with us. What in the world did she have to do that kept her from it?”
Beulah knew good and well that Evelyn was with Tom and Jake today but she was not going to be the one to tell Betty Gibson.
“She had more work to do on the wedding,” Beulah said vaguely.
“Ha!” Rossella said, with a wave of her hand. “Amore.”
“What’d you say, Rossella?” Betty asked.
“Amore. Love,” Rossella said.
“Yes, weddings are wonderful aren’t they?”
“I don’t mean young couple. I mean …”
Beulah suddenly turned to her back seat companion and tried to give her the eye without Betty noticing.
“What wrong with your eye?” Rossella said, and frowned at Beulah.
“Nothing,” Beulah said.
“C’mon y’all,” Joe said. “Jack’s gonna show us a Derby winner.”
Beulah sighed in relief. After the horse farm, they toured the Mary Todd Lincoln house museum in downtown Lexington so Rossella could see where the Kentucky-born Abraham Lincoln met his wife.
They had lunch at a sandwich shop and when Beulah thought it was time to go home, Joe suggested a bourbon distillery tour just outside of Lexington, so off they went to Woodford Reserve.
She kept a close eye on Joe Gibson in the tasting room, making sure he wasn’t sampling too much before driving them all home. As for her own self, Beulah passed on the sampling, having had enough alcohol in the last week to last her the rest of her life.
The subject of Evelyn and Tom had been avoided. If Betty Gibson got hold of that piece of information, especially before Evelyn was even aware of it herself, it would be disastrous. The delicate bud of early love would have no chance to blossom.
***
After such a full day, Beulah slept late the next morning. Rossella’s door was still shut when she made her way to the kitchen for coffee. Just after she plugged in the percolator, the wall phone rang. She debated answering it since she could hardly take Betty Gibson’s phone calls before a cup of coffee. But it could be Annie, so she answered.
“Beulah, I got an e-mail from Annie last night.” Evelyn said. “They found Ephraim’s son. She has written everything and has even sent some pictures. I’ll bring it over now if it’s a good time.”
“He’s still alive?” she said, sitting down hard on the kitchen chair. “What about his mother, Elena?”
“He is alive and well, with children and grandchildren, but Elena is gone,” Evelyn said.
In ten minutes, Evelyn was seated at her kitchen table, handing her a photograph of Benito. She clasped her hand to her mouth and shook her head.
“He looks so much like Ephraim. His skin’s a little darker but look at those eyes, and his nose.”
“This is his wife, Angelina,” Evelyn said. “You need to read what Annie wrote to get the full story.”
Evelyn waited patiently while she read.
“He was a farmer,” Beulah said. “Just like Ephraim, and Daddy and his daddy. All the way back as far as we know,” she said. “What about that?”
The wonderment of it all was nearly beyond comprehension.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Evelyn said. “Today, they’re going to meet his son and grandson on the farm. Annie will send another e-mail later.”
Beulah shook her head, unable to speak. Joy, pressed down and overflowing.
“Thank you,” she said to Evelyn. “I’m glad you know how to run the computer. It sure does make the world seem small.”
She stared for a long time at her nephew and silently asked God to allow her to live long enough to meet him, either here or there. Finally, she gathered up the pages and set them aside, knowing she would pour over it all again in the quiet of her bedroom.
“How was your day in Lexington?” Evelyn asked.
Beulah told her what all they had done. When she finished, she wondered how to broach the subject of Tom Childress.
“And you were with Tom and Jake?” she said.
“Oh, Beulah,” Evelyn said, her forehead creasing. “I’ve wanted to tell you, but you’ve had so much going on; I didn’t want to add anything else.”
She reached across the table to take Evelyn’s hand.
“What is it?”
Just then, they heard footsteps on the stairs. Rossella walked into the room with her hair perfectly coifed on top of her head and a red sleeveless dress.
“Good morning,” she said. “I cook eggs?”
Much to her frustration, they had not been able to get back to Evelyn’s problem. Rossella sucked the air out of the room with clattering pans and pulling out butter and eggs.
The end result was delicious as the eggs were flavored with pieces of the salty meat Rossella had served at dinner on Monday night. As good as it was, Beulah resented the interruption.
“I need to leave for an appointment in Rutherford,” Evelyn said after breakfast. “Why don’t you stop by sometime after three? I should have an e-mail from Annie by then.”
Whatever it was would have to wait.
After Evelyn left, Beulah tended to Annie’s chickens and gathered a few more tomatoes from the garden while she was outside. The forecast predicted frost any day now, and that would be the end of the garden except for the greens. Later in the morning, she piddled around the house and did some laundry while Rossella sat in front of the television and watched a soap opera.
Lunch came and went with them both taking leftovers out of the refrigerator, and she was relieved to see Rossella more interested in the television than the kitchen.
Finally, the time came around to go to Evelyn’s.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said to Rossella, who was now sitting in the sun on the back porch reading a magazine. “Don’t forget we leave for prayer meeting at five forty-five and then we’ll eat chili with the Gibson’s after church. So you don’t need to cook anything,” she said, just to make sure Rossella got the point.
“I be ready,” Rossella said, and barely looked up from her magazine, which seemed a bit rude to Beulah.
***
“In here,” Evelyn said when she called at the back door. Evelyn was sitting at the computer and printing out papers. “You’re going to love this,” Evelyn said, handing the papers to her as they came off the printer.
Beulah looked at each face with something akin to greed. Her new relatives! Her nephew Benito, and her great-nephew Vincenzo, his wife Anna, his son Luca and daughter Rosa. Her Italian family. How strange the names seemed on her tongue, yet they belonged to her. By God’s grace, they belonged to her.
“Before we talk, go ahead and read Annie’s e-mail.”
Beulah read it and learned all about her visit to the farm. Pictures completed the story, the family, their farmhouse, the olive trees, and the black pigs with the white circle around their bellies, and even one of the lunch Anna and Rosa had prepared for them.
“It was with great sadness we said goodbye. They want to come visit and they want you to come here.”
Tomorrow night, Annie would be home. Rossella would leave on Saturday. Joy of joys, to have her kitchen back by Saturday night. Beulah’s cup truly was overflowing. She smiled and looked at Evelyn, trouble spelled out all over her face.
“What’s upsetting you?” she said.
“Let’s go in the living room where it’s more comfortable,” Evelyn said, and pushed back from the computer desk.
When they settled into the living room chairs, Beulah saw a range of emotions cross Evelyn’s face before she finally spoke.
“It started with Tom returning Jake’s calls when he was still living here at the house before he moved to the cottage. Often I answered the phone. We began talking, and if Jake was gone, sometimes we talked for an hour. It’s strange, Beulah. I’ve known Tom the entire time I’ve been in Somerville, but I’ve not really known him. He was married and I was married, we only saw each other in passing downtown or at some social function. His wife died not long after Charlie. But he goes to the Methodist church and lives in town and our paths never crossed until he and Jake began a friendship.”
“Not unusual in a small town,” Beulah said. “We all know each other, but sometimes we don’t really know about each other.”
“Exactly,” Evelyn said. “The more we talked, the more I realized how much I liked him, as a person. He’s genuine and loves living here in a small town, but he also enjoys music and art and sometimes travels to Chicago and Atlanta for weekends. His family is actually from Lexington, just like mine, but he settled here when he got out of law school. We’ve so many things in common.”
“You’ve fallen for him,” Beulah said, trying to help Evelyn get to the point, which seemed fairly obvious by the glow on her face.
“We’ve never been on a date together. We’ve only talked and then I invited him to the dinner party at my house. He came to dinner at your house on Monday and then Jake invited me to go with them on the farm visit yesterday. I’m afraid I am falling in love.”
As she spoke, Evelyn twisted a Kleenex into a tight rope and then unwound it. “I never expected to date again. I wasn’t looking for this. Tom hasn’t spoken to me about it being anything other than a friendship. What should I do?” she said, an agonized look on her face. “And what about Jake? He was looking for a mentor, not his mother’s future boyfriend,” she said, laughing. “Then there’s Lindy.”
Beulah could not keep herself from smiling.
“Evelyn, you know Jake. He won’t stand in the way. He’d be happy for you, if it’s what you and Tom both want. Lindy as well. You and Tom are adults and must decide if it’s worth pursuing or not.”
“Should I talk to Jake about it before it goes any further?”
She thought about the challenges of a blended family, even when the children were adults.
“If you want Jake’s blessing, then yes, it’s probably a good idea. Maybe you should wait until Tom invites you out on an official date. Otherwise, it might be jumping the gun,” she said.
“Right. I’m borrowing trouble. If and when he invites me out, I’ll talk to Jake.”
***
Beulah kept looking at the pictures of her Italian family over and over again and then compared them with pictures of Ephraim, right before he went into service and as a younger boy. With so many similarities, there was no need for the modern DNA test. It was quite evident from the facial features this family’s blood ran the same as hers.
It was hard to tear herself away from the photographs to dress for Wednesday night prayer meeting, usually one of her favorite times of the week. When Beulah came downstairs, Rossella was already waiting for her, dressed in a striking coral dress with a matching headband that circled the base of the piled-high hair. She had never seen Rossella with her hair down and couldn’t help but be curious as to the length.
Once inside the church, Beulah led her to her normal pew, six rows back on the organ side. The Wednesday night crowd was always much lighter than the Sunday regulars. Church attendance had nothing to do with being a Christian, but she did value an assembly of believers. She tried to be there every time the church doors were open unless there was a mighty good reason not to. Since she had missed Sunday to go to the Catholic church, it was especially important to attend on Wednesday night in case there was any talk of her joining up with the Catholics. Especially if Woody or Betty Gibson had mentioned her partaking in wine at the Monday night dinner party.
Patsy, one of her friends from the Women’s Missionary Union, came over and kneeled on the pew in front of them.
“Beulah, is this the lady who’s making spaghetti tomorrow night at the Country Diner? I’ve been hearing about it all week on the radio and we’re planning to come,” she said.
Rossella glowed and extended her hand like a princess. Patsy shook her hand and then looked back at a row of women and mouthed, “It’s her!” Soon, ladies, chattering and gawking at Rossella, surrounded them.
“You’re from Italy?”
“Yes, but now I live in Brooklyn,” Rossella said.
“How’d you come to know Beulah?”
Thankfully, the organist started playing “I’ll Fly Away,” which sent everyone scurrying back to her seat. After a time of worship, Brother Gilliam gave the scripture reading and a mini-sermon. Then he opened up the floor for prayer requests. Congregants raised their hands and shared concerns for prayer when recognized.
“Pray for Jerry Cordier, he’s got terrible back pain.”
“Remember the leaders of our country and the troops overseas.”
“The Durhams down on Puny Branch need prayers, they lost their house to a fire.”
“Pray for Esther Ray, her cancer came back.”
Pastor Gilliam let it go on for a while and then gave a last call before offering up a prayer for all the requests.
“Any more?” he said, his eyes scanning the crowd.
She heard the pew creak and felt it shift. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rossella raise her hand. Beulah turned, and before she could swat Rossella’s hand down, pastor Gilliam saw Rossella and nodded for her to speak.
“Pray for me tomorrow night,” Rossella said. “I have much cooking to do for many people at the Country Diner. Open five to nine. My spaghetti special, six ninety-nine.”
Beulah nearly toppled out of the pew in embarrassment.